


Homecoming

by suilven



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suilven/pseuds/suilven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Blight is over and Zevran has found peace at last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

The sun was just beginning to set, making the soft blue blush with pink, as Zevran strolled down the main road towards the harbor. The crowds that surrounded him drifted by slowly, trapped in a lazy current of contentment, their voices a musical murmur. He inhaled deeply, relishing the subtle tang of salt that permeated the air. It was good to be home.

For once, there was no need to rush, and he allowed himself the pleasure of just  _walking_ , savoring the relaxed pace of life around him. He stopped at a vendor near the road's edge where baskets overflowed with rare and exotic flowers. With exquisite precision, Zevran sampled the scent of each one, lifting them delicately to his nose and breathing deeply. He stroked their soft petals and admired their bright colors before finally choosing one; a large blossom of vibrant purple with a scent of musk and spice—her favorite. It was the one he always chose.

He paid the man, who gave him a wink and a knowing smile, and made his way out into the crowds once more. As he stepped around the corner, his destination came into view; an old stone building with pale green awnings, like the scales of the great fish that swam in the depths of Rialto Bay. The bells on the boats were rolling their melodious tones over the waves as the fishermen brought in their catches for the day and the sky above him had bloomed into a haze of pink and orange.

Beneath the green awnings, a wrought-iron fence encircled a collection of tables. Freshly-lit lanterns hung like vines overhead; little globes of light winking in the growing dusk. She was already there, waiting for him, and a bubble of joy swelled in his heart. He leapt over the fence gracefully and sauntered over to kneel at her side.

" _Mi amor_ ," he whispered, holding out the flower in his outstretched fingers.

She smiled, so warm and gentle, and her fingertips brushed against his as she took it from him.

"You're late, as always." She tucked the blossom behind her ear; a striking splash of purple in her waves of long dark hair.

Zevran rose and took the chair opposite her before taking a swallow of the cool wine from the goblet next to his plate. The bright taste of summer peaches flooded his palate and he smiled as well.

"What can I say? It has been so long since I have been here. I want to enjoy it, all of it. I want to explore it with you." He reached for her hand and pressed his lips against her palm. "I am more happy than you know to have you here with me."

Their meal was unhurried, course after course of long forgotten delicacies, as the sun set over the harbor and the colors in the sky bled away into darkness. She threaded her fingers through his as they rose to leave, and he placed gentle kisses on the creamy softness of her neck until she giggled and pushed him lightly away. Through the quiet streets they traced their way back to their villa where he gently plucked the flower from her hair before they made love; hushed whispers and moans in the stillness of the night. At last, she slept, and he kept watch over her.

"My Rinna," he whispered into her hair that still carried the scent of musk and spice, "my love."

oOoOo

There was blood everywhere. The rooftop was covered in corpses—darkspawn, elves, dwarves, men. The body of the Archdemon lay still at last and the acrid stench of its tainted rot hung over everything like a cloud. Kallian was screaming, an endless wail that poured forth, wild and uncontrolled. No, not him. Anything but that. Still drenched in the great dragon's blood, she sprinted over the stones to where she had seen him fall.

"Wynne! Wynne!" She bellowed for the healer as she ran.

He was face down but she rolled him over easily and pressed her cheek to his chest. Please, let him still be breathing, please. She could hear the frantic pounding of her own heart… but not his. No.

"Wynne!" Why wasn't anyone coming?

Kallian stroked the side of his face tenderly. The corners of his mouth were turned up into a faint smile. He was going to make it. He had to.

The old mage touched her arm and she leapt back.

"Thank the Maker! Help him, please." Kallian moved to make room for Wynne as she knelt down next to Zevran's prone form.

But, after a moment, Wynne shook her head. "I'm sorry, there's nothing more I can do. He's gone."

"No, no," Kallian shook her head vigorously, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest. "Try harder. He's still in there. I know he is."

Alistair came up behind her and helped Wynne to her feet. "I'm sorry, Kal."

"No, he's not gone. You're lying! All of you!" Tears streamed down her face as she sprang to her feet and leveled her daggers at them.

Alistair stepped forward and she lunged at him with a feral ferocity. Her blows were undisciplined and uneven, punctuated by sobs, and he dodged them easily. Wynne caught his eye and released her magic with a flutter of her fingers.  _Sleep, child_. Kallian crumpled to the ground with a moan.

Alistair carried them both down from the rooftop; the living and the dead. It was a long time before she spoke to him again.

oOoOo

Kallian boarded the ship with an air of determination, her head held high. His ashes were in a leather pouch that she wore next to her skin, part of him with her always. She stayed on deck, even in the roughest squalls, and the sailors watched her with wary eyes and whispers. Her thin hands clutched the railing as she stared off into the wide expanse of blue. She had never seen the ocean before. They were supposed to see it together.

She recognized the curve of the bay, the city far off on the horizon. It was just as he had described, a lifetime ago, as they lay together in his tent while his fingers stroked her hair. Kallian untangled the cord that held the pouch to her waist and eased it open. She scattered his ashes into the waves, dry eyes watching as what was left of him sunk into the depths.

He was home at last.

She climbed carefully to the top of the railing, ignoring the astonished cries of the crew, and dove down into the clear blue water. The cold was a shock at first, but she swam down, further and further, until it almost began to feel warm. Her lungs ached painfully, but she knew it wouldn't last long.

He was home, and, now, so was she.


End file.
